


turbid water in my lungs

by impravidus



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Banter, Drowning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Field Trip, Flash Thompson Redemption, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, POV Outsider, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Peter Parker, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27208051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impravidus/pseuds/impravidus
Summary: He felt himself slowly slip away. His body went limp and sunk to the floor, jagged rocks digging into his back. He felt himself slip away.And he slipped away.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Flash Thompson, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 31
Kudos: 352





	turbid water in my lungs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frostysunflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/gifts).



> thank you ennelize for beta-ing!

Midtown Tech’s AP Environmental Science classes were on their annual trip to Wappinger Creek.

It was a dreary October morning. At a crisp 56°F, the group of moody, barely awake teens were rubbing their hands together for some semblance of warmth as they made the trek from the bus to the water.

“We told you to be prepared for the weather,” Mrs. Devonshire said, her hands slotted comfortably in her fleece jacket.

“The weather app said it was going to be 70°!” Flash complained, hugging his arms close to his chest as he shivered in his t-shirt in jeans. 

“The  _ high _ is 70°, but it is currently 9:30AM.”

“Well how was I supposed to know that?” Flash grumbled, sinking into himself further.

Peter clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. Even in his three layers, gloves, scarf, and hat, the cool breeze that tickled his rosy cheeks was still unbearable.

“Did you know that there have been allegedly twenty-seven murders in this forest?” 

Peter looked at MJ incredulously. “By the same person?”

She scoffed. “Of course not.”

Peter pondered on the information. “I… don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

“Don’t worry. Most of the bodies were recovered.”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “Most?”

She grinned. “Keep walking, Parker. Maybe that’ll warm you up.” She sauntered past him with the air of unwavering certainty that she always exuded.

Peter, thankful for his new and improved lung capacity and cursing his still sensitive calves from the not-so-graceful landing he had the night before on patrol, gritted his teeth further as the sore muscles screamed for relief.

He nearly collapsed on the creekbank, plopping himself onto the ground. The freshly fallen leaves crunched beneath his weight.

Flash began to approach him. Peter held his breath, preparing for whatever unnecessary quip that would come out of Flash’s mouth.

“Hey, you okay? You have your inhaler, right?” 

Peter waved his hand, looking to the other teen with a smile that was hopefully more reassuring than perplexed. “I’m fine.”

“We don’t want a repeat of the Hall of Science.”

“I’m never gonna live that one down, huh?” Peter ducked his head. 

“When you pass out and fall down a flight of stairs  _ and  _ spill your water bottle all over the stairs on your way down and cause ten other people to tumble down with you, well, you’re never living that one down.”

“Thanks, Flash,” Peter said dryly.

“Take care of yourself. Don’t wanna embarrass yourself considering you’re already so embarrassing just being you!” And with that, he trotted off to his group.

With a series of long groans, Peter peeled himself off the forest floor and headed to join his group.

“So,” Betty said, “we need one person to go get the aquatic samples and three people to take forest samples.”

Amanda shook her head. “I can’t go in the water. Not in those waders. Who knows who has worn those?” She shuddered. “I’ll stick to picking up leaves and rocks. Here. On land.”

“I can’t go in either,” Bentley said. “Don’t think they’ll fit me.” He motioned to his 6’5” self.

“Peter?” Betty asked softly. “Do you mind?”

“No. Not at all,” Peter said.

“You have to get four viles of the creek water, three bags of different vegetation, and three rocks.” She handed him the supplies. “You just keep everything in the big bag. Got it?”

“Got it.” Peter gave her a bright thumbs up. 

The waders were unlike anything Peter had worn. The thick rubber made his usual agile self stumble back into his old, gangly self. He was at the height where they were still unfortunately too high for his legs, making his wide stance ever the more of a wobbly waddle. 

He took careful steps into the water, getting slightly thrown off by the feeling of the water pressure surrounding him from the outside. 

He found a rhythm quickly. He was good at adapting. He stuck to the creek floor, quite literally, his adhesive feet being able to keep him planted steadily. 

Peter smiled softly to himself, enjoying the simple sounds of nature, tuning out the many different conversations of his peers to just surround himself with rustling leaves and whistling wind.

Peter perked up when he spotted a patch of black sedge. Plodding heavily through the water, he made his way to the other side.

But, when he stepped forward, sticking his foot once more, he was thrown completely off balance as a large rock adhered itself to his foot, lifting up from the creek floor. 

Before he could catch himself, Peter went tumbling into the creek. 

His body was engulfed fully in the frigid water, the creek consuming him into its depths. His many layers clung to his torso. It was suffocating. 

Peter tried to push himself up, but his hand caught a sharp rock, slicing it deep. He gasped, sucking in water. 

It burned. It was a too familiar burn. He found himself being sent back to that night, trapped inside the parachute, the mask soaked in water, suctioning against his face until he couldn’t even try to breathe. 

Memories of falling deeper and deeper into the water, the helplessness and dread, intruded and overwhelming his thoughts.

He coughed, trying to somehow get rid of the water settling his throat, filling his mouth with its nauseating taste. That was quickly followed by another suck in as water flooded down.

Peter’s vision filled with inky blotches, clouding the murky water that was stinging his eyes.

He felt himself slowly slip away. His body went limp and sunk to the floor, jagged rocks digging into his back. He felt himself slip away.

And he slipped away.

.-~*~-.

Everyone saw Peter fall. 

Everyone saw Peter not come back up.

Flash was the first to act. He sprinted as best he could against the resistant water, plunging himself into the water and pulled Peter to the surface.

“Somebody help!” Flash dragged Peter weakly to the bank. Realizing that everyone was too far on the other side to come to Peter’s aid, and began CPR. “Shit, fuck, fuck, why didn’t I pay more attention during CPR training?” He muttered  Beyoncé’s “Crazy In Love” in a panic beneath his breath, beginning compressions as best he could. 

Though his trembling arms grew tired, Flash persevered.

Finally, water erupted from Peter’s throat with a gurgle. He lurched to the side, coughing hard and gasping for air.

“Oh my God. Oh my _ God!  _ Peter, are you— how are you—” Flash snapped his mouth shut. “Just breathe. You gotta breathe.”

Peter continued to hack, wheezing in air greedily between the sharp coughs.

Peter’s hands scrambled to grasp his throat with his quivering hands. He caught sight of everyone gawking at him, whispering too loud. Everything was too loud. 

“Peter—” Flash placed a hand to Peter’s shoulder.

Peter flinched violently, recoiling away from his touch, shaking harder.

“What’s wrong?”

Peter clenched his eyes shut tightly.

“What do you need? How can I help you?” Flash asked, growing more distressed.

Peter began to clear his throat, just repeating the sound and focusing on the vibrations in his throat.

“Cadence, do you have your phone?” Roger questioned, pulling on a pair of waders to cross the creek.

“We need to call his parents,” Cadence said, finally snapping out of her daze.

“Guardian. He lives with his aunt.”

“His aunt’s at jury duty,” MJ said, eyes still glued onto Peter across the creek. “He — earlier today — he told me how he still doesn’t understand how jury duty works and that his aunt had to go in for it today.”

“Call his emergency contact,” Roger called over his shoulder, clipping the buckles on the waders.

Cadence flipped through the stack of papers, struggling to find Peter’s paper. “This— this can’t be right!” 

Roger turned around, already stepping into the creek. “What?”

“This says his emergency contact is…”

“It is,” Roger interrupted. “Believe me, I know. It is. Call him.”

Her brows furrowed as she fumbled to take out her phone. In complete disbelief, she typed in the number and didn’t have to wait even one ring before the call went through.

_ “How did you get this number?” _

“Uh, h-hi. This is Cadence Devonshire. I’m Peter Parker’s science teacher. We’re on a field trip today and Peter… he uh… well you see…”

_ “Get to the point. Is he injured?” _

She swallowed. “Y-yes. He is. He fell into the creek and he— he seemed to have inhaled a lot of water. A fellow student administered CPR, and he is currently breathing and conscious, and we’ve— we’ve already called 911—”

_ “Not necessary. He’s coming with me to be treated by my medical staff.” _

“Sir, school policy—”

_ “I frankly don’t give a damn about your school’s policy.” _

“Understood, sir. How… how long will you be?”

“I _ will be there in approximately three minutes. Think you can manage not endangering my kid in that time?” _

“Yes, sir, I can.”

_ “I’ll make it two minutes.” _

And then he hung up.

Across the other side of the creek, Roger dropped down next to Peter whose knees were pulled close to his chest. He stared blank but tearily at his shoes, teeth chattering as he shivered. His breaths were labored. He was grasping his knees in a tight, white-knuckled grasp.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Flash said. “It’s like he, he, he can’t even hear me.”

“You did a great job,” Roger said. “Go join the class. They’re boarding the bus.”

“But—”

“Go join the class,” he repeated firmly.

Flash hesitantly pulled himself away from Peter’s side and made his way to catch up with his peers.

“Hey, Peter,” Roger said softly.

Peter skittered away, pulling his arms close to his chest, pressing his back flush with a tree trunk.

“It’s just me. Mr. Harrington.”

Peter’s eyebrows scrunched tightly. He took a sharp breath in.

“We called your emergency contact. He’s gonna be here soon.”

Peter rocked slightly, tugging at his sweater. 

The famous mechanical whir of the Iron Man suit grew louder as it approached, followed soon after by a metallic clink. 

Tony exited his suit and rushed to Peter. He didn’t acknowledge Roger, but the man wasn’t offended. “Thank you, but I can take it from here. Clear the area. He needs space and he’s not a sideshow attraction.”

“O-of course.” Roger went briskly to join the class and scour the area for stragglers.

“Hey,” Tony said, voice warm but not a whisper. 

“Mister… Stark?”

“That’s me.” Tony advanced cautiously towards Peter. “I brought you some dry clothes and the fluffiest towel I could find. Even brought you one of those pop-up privacy rooms that we use before battles.”

“Fancy… porta… potty.” Peter huffed out a weak laugh.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” Tony said.

“You know… it’s, it’s… true.” Peter gave him a mischievous smile, though it didn’t reach his puffy, red-rimmed eyes.

“You wanna get changed first or do you wanna stay here a little while?”

“Cold,” Peter managed to say.

“Okay. I’ll turn on the heat in there while you change. Make sure the wind can’t hit you.”

“ _ Really _ … fancy… portapotty.”

Tony gave him a playful glare, not quite masking his concern.

Peter disappeared into the privacy room, the clothes Tony had left for him already inside. 

Peter, chest fuzzy and tingling, trudged around the small box, trying to ignore the way the walls felt as though they were closing in around him.

It took him too long peeling off his layers, each one clinging to the other. Each one he took off made him feel the slightest bit safer, the strangling stronghold around his torso lifting away.

When he was finally free, he bundled himself in the towel. Even the softest towel was too abrasive, but it was a relief to feel the water droplets covering his skin disappear into the fabric.

He pulled out the pocket that held his clothes and smiled.

It was his heating under armour, fluffy Spider-Man pajama pants, and Tony’s old MIT sweatshirt. 

As Peter slipped the worn fabric on, he buried his face into his elbow, surrounding himself with the familiar scent to block out the phantom sensation of grimy creek water filling his nose.

After slipping on the thick pair of ski socks and UGG boots, he staggered out of the changing room and collapsed into Tony’s arms.

“Hey,” he shushed him gently. “It’s alright. You’re alright.” He pulled Peter’s head to his chest and began to run his fingers through his damp curls. He rubbed circles into Peter’s scalp with one hand while the other curled around his back, tracing shapes with his thumb into his shoulder blades.

There was a warm wet patch accumulating on Tony’s side where Peter’s hand rested.

“You’re bleeding!” Tony exclaimed.

“Hand got… cut. That’s why I… drowned.”

“Who knows what is in that water. We have to get this cleaned up.”

“Please, just,” he took in a shaky breath. “Can we stay here? Just a little longer? Please?” He heaved another breath. “Safer… here.”

Tony sighed, and pulled him close again, giving a soft kiss to his hair.

“Just a little longer.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to chat, my Tumblr is [official-impravidus](https://official-impravidus.tumblr.com/)


End file.
